The House of Lyall (7 page)

As with several other couples, the first kiss was quickly followed by another of longer duration, and when Andrew drew away, he was confused by the depth of his feelings and too shy to declare himself.

Striving to understand her own emotions, Marianne said breathily, ‘We'd better get off the floor before …' Not knowing why she wanted to sit down, she broke off.

Acutely conscious of each other now, they sat through the next dance without uttering a word, but at last Andrew said, ‘I think I should be getting you home, in case the aunts are worrying.'

When he helped her to her feet, she said, ‘I'd like to walk home, if that's all right? My head needs clearing.'

‘Mine, too.'

Although the night air was bitterly cold and frost was glittering on the granite setts of the street, they ambled along silently for quite a time before Andrew summoned enough courage to say what was on his mind. ‘Marianne,' he began, ‘we've known each other for two years, and I was drawn to you from the very first. No, don't say anything yet,' he warned, as she opened her mouth, ‘I want to get it off my chest, and I need to know where I stand. I said “drawn to you”, but I really fell in love with you the minute I saw you. I meant to wait till I'd something to offer you, until I had set up as a solicitor, which won't be for a few years yet, but I know my aunts would be pleased if you … if we …'

They had stopped walking, and Marianne put her hand up and stroked his cheek. ‘We're too young to make our minds up on something as serious as marriage, Andrew.'

‘We could just be engaged … and my mind was made up months ago.'

‘It might change in a few years, and if you remember, I told you on our very first walk I was going to marry a rich man. Maybe you thought that was a silly girlish dream, but I still mean it.'

He eyed her mournfully. ‘So you don't love me?'

‘Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I just don't know, Andrew.'

‘If you did, you'd know,' he said, his voice throbbing with the pain eating at his innards. ‘I fall asleep every night thinking of you, and I wake every morning thinking of you, and I think of you every minute of the day. That's love, Marianne!'

‘I often think of you, Andrew, and if you went away, I'd really miss you, it would probably make me miserable for a long time, but I can't be sure if it's love or not. I'm sorry.'

‘It's all right,' he said gruffly, although clearly it wasn't. ‘We'd better go.'

Pulling up the hood of Miss Edith's cloak, she held the body of it closely around her. ‘I didn't mean to hurt you, Andrew,' she told him as they walked on again. ‘I told you the truth, but remember, as your aunts keep saying, I'm only seventeen. I do like you an awful lot, more than anybody I've met yet, and maybe I will fall in love with you and marry you … some day.'

‘What about the rich man you're looking for?' he sneered.

‘If I meet one and he asks me to marry him, I'll say yes. You see, Andrew, I never had any money to spend, that's why –' Her hand flew to her mouth, but after a moment, she went on, ‘I may as well tell you.'

For the very first time, she confessed to being a thief, and was most surprised when Andrew said, ‘Not many young girls would have denied the temptation when confronted by a heap of sovereigns like that; most of them would have taken the lot. But tell me, what did you spend them on? What did you reward yourself with as a counter-effect to your guilt?'

She drew a deep breath. ‘Do you know something, Andrew? I never did feel truly guilty. I thought it served Mr Moodie right for leaving his cash lying about, and all I bought was the railway ticket to Aberdeen. I still have four pounds, nineteen shillings and a few coppers left. Now, how does your love stand up to what I did?'

Coming to an abrupt halt, he grabbed her by the arms and turned her round to face him. ‘I don't condone it, Marianne, but my love for you is strong enough to withstand any sin you care to commit. Don't forget that, do you hear? Even if our paths diverge in the future, any time you are in trouble, you have only to come to me. I will always be there for you.'

Feeling humbled, tears came to her eyes. ‘Andrew, I'm all mixed up. When you say things like that my heart aches with what I suppose is love, and I want you to kiss me, but you won't want to …'

‘I'll always want to, my darling.' His kiss was tender, a pledge of undying devotion. ‘I've been a fool tonight. I shouldn't have said anything; it was much too soon. You must wipe it from your mind and not let it spoil the close companionship we had before.'

When they reached Strawberry Bank, his aunts wanted to know how their evening had gone, and only Miss Edith saw the shadows in Andrew's eyes, the heightened colour in Marianne's cheeks, as they described the four-piece ensemble which had provided the music for the more sedate dances, and the three students who had volunteered to play, with gusto, for the others. At last, putting an end to the questions still being asked by her sisters, she shooed the young man away and ordered the girl to bed.

‘Something went wrong,' she whispered to Miss Esther when Miss Emily had also gone upstairs. ‘Something they kept from us.'

Miss Esther frowned. ‘They said they had a marvellous time.'

‘Yes, and maybe they did, most of the time,' Miss Edith nodded, ‘but they were definitely holding something back.'

Her sister eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Would it have been the crinoline? Remember the trouble you had with it?'

Miss Edith smiled triumphantly. ‘That's it! Marianne must have had trouble sitting down. I just hope she was not as bad as I was – even my drawers were in full view, if you recall.'

‘They would have been embarrassed, but they would have got over it quickly. I'm sure they enjoyed themselves as much as they said.'

Marianne heard the murmur of their voices as they said good night and went into their separate rooms, but she knew that she wouldn't sleep. How could she, after what had been said earlier? It was all very well for Andrew to tell her to put it out of her mind, but she'd been cruel to him, hurt him badly, yet, in spite of that and the theft she had confessed to, he still swore that he loved her, would love her for ever. How could anybody love like that? If he landed in trouble by committing a crime and came to her for help, would she stand by him? She didn't think she would! But then, she had never professed to love him – that was the difference.

She wasn't interested in love. She wanted the safety, the power, of money around her, the wherewithal to buy enough clothes to fill closet after closet – and have some little saleswoman falling over herself to give advice on the proper outfit for the occasion. She could do without cuddles and kisses, she hadn't had many up to now anyway … though she'd the feeling she could grow to like Andrew's. But he could never take her into the realms of the upper classes, where no one would ever dare speak to her the way that stuck-up pig of a girl had tonight. If it hadn't been for that, she might have let herself be swept away by his declaration of love.

She was getting weak.

The New Year of 1897 was only days old when the snow started, and for the next three weeks there were no walks for Marianne and Andrew, which, if they were perfectly honest, was a relief to both of them. By the time the storm came to an end, and the streets had cleared, the two upsetting episodes of the night of the ball were past history and were never mentioned, and Marianne and Andrew slipped back naturally into the easy relationship they had had before.

Marianne, however, was still longing for a chance to compare him with another man … or more than one … and so, if they met any of his friends when they were out, she deliberately flirted with them. Her efforts came to fruition one
Sunday early in March, when they ran into Douglas Martin, whom she had met only once before, with his common ‘friend', Vi.

He was with a young man this time, one who greeted Andrew like a long-lost friend. ‘Oh, Rennie, you don't know how glad I am to see you. Could I possibly have a few words with you, or …' He tailed off, looking apologetically at Marianne. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't realize …'

‘I don't mind,' she assured him, walking on to give them privacy.

Douglas seemed to have the same idea, because he hurried to catch up with her. ‘You don't mind if I keep you company until they …?'

She smiled encouragingly. ‘I don't mind.'

He waited until they were well away from their companions before he said in a low voice, ‘I've seen you out with Rennie a lot, though you haven't seen me, and I hoped I'd get a chance to speak to you on your own some time. Maybe I'm saying something I shouldn't – if you and Rennie are … I don't want to trespass.'

She was mystified, but intrigued. ‘Andrew and I are only friends.'

‘Thank God! I'll have to grab my chance, so … will you come out with me tomorrow night?'

She did not take long to consider. She couldn't say she cared for him much, but Andrew had told her some time ago that Douglas Martin had given up Law and was now studying for the ministry, so an evening out with him would be interesting … yes, it would be very interesting. ‘I'd love to,' she murmured.

‘Seven o'clock at the Junction?'

‘All right, but I might be a few minutes late. I don't finish work till six.'

‘I'll wait,' he grinned, turning as the other two came alongside.

They split into their original pairs, and Marianne's curiosity made her ask, ‘What did that fellow want with you, Andrew?'

‘He wants me to help him with some written work he should have handed in, so I said I'd go over it with him tomorrow night.' He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘What was Martin saying to you? You looked very serious.'

‘He asked me to go out with him tomorrow night and I said yes.' Why should she keep it a secret? There was nothing to hide.

Andrew's open face closed abruptly. ‘I'd rather you didn't go, Marianne.'

She felt outraged at his attitude. ‘You don't own me, Andrew Rennie! I'll go out with anybody I want!'

‘But I know what he's like. Remember the kind of girl he was with when –?'

‘I know you said she was a lady of the streets, but that doesn't mean Douglas is a …' Not knowing the word ‘libertine', she stopped.

‘He boasts about the girls he's …' Too much of a gentleman to repeat the things the other man said, Andrew ended lamely, ‘… been out with.'

She thought she knew what he meant. ‘I can look after myself. You should know by this time I'm not a shrinking violet.'

He said no more, though aware that she had no idea what men like Douglas Martin could do, and she wouldn't believe him if he told her.

Monday was several degrees colder than Sunday yet Marianne's temperature was higher than usual. Andrew wasn't the only one who had shown displeasure at her making a tryst with another man: all three of his aunts had let her see how they felt at some time during the day, but she didn't try to defend herself. They didn't own her either, and they couldn't interfere in her private life.

Supper that night was eaten in an uncomfortable silence, but neither the sisters' stony glances nor occasional accusing looks made any difference to Marianne, and when the time came for her to set off, she decided that she couldn't keep up the animosity any longer.

‘I know what I'm doing,' she said as she put on her jacket.

Miss Edith's mouth twisted in disbelief. ‘You are far too young to know what some young men can do. You have only ever been out with Andrew, who is a proper gentleman. He would never –'

‘I was out once with Stephen, remember?' Marianne pouted. ‘Douglas is a nice boy, too.' Andrew had made her suspect that Douglas wasn't as decent as he or Stephen Grant were, but that was half the fun of going out with him, as far as she was concerned. She wanted to find out what he would do, and she would easily stop him if he tried to do anything wrong.

Miss Esther took over the cautioning. ‘Be careful, Marianne dear. I remember, when I was about your age, a boy –' Her face turning deep crimson, she came to an abrupt halt, then went on, her voice trembling a little, ‘No, no. You do not want to hear that.'

‘Times have changed,' Marianne murmured. ‘Things are different nowadays.'

‘Not all that much,' Miss Esther said sadly. ‘So be on your guard.'

Miss Emily added a rider. ‘It is best not to let boys know how you feel; it only encourages them.'

‘Do not let him keep you out too late,' was Miss Edith's farewell.

Douglas was waiting at the Junction, where Holburn Street met Union Street. ‘I thought of taking you to see the show at the Music Hall,' he observed. ‘It's a bit too cold for a walk, isn't it?'

If they were in a hall among other people, Marianne thought, he wouldn't have the chance to do anything to her, wrong or otherwise, and she dared to say quietly, ‘I'd rather go for a walk, if you don't mind?'

They set off into the dimly lit evening.

Smiling at the effort her sisters were making to camouflage their tiredness, Miss Edith remarked, ‘For goodness' sake, off you go to bed, the two of you. I'll wait until Marianne comes in.'

They jumped up with surprising alacrity, Miss Esther saying, ‘I seem to need more and more sleep as I grow older.'

Stifling a yawn with her hand, Miss Emily nodded. ‘I am the same.'

As the eldest, Miss Edith shook her head reprovingly. ‘If you give in to your years, senility will come on you all the sooner.'

Miss Emily paused at the door. ‘Oh, do you think we should not …?'

‘One early night will not harm you, but do not make a habit of it.'

Edith lay back against the cushions of what had been their father's seat, a wide, leather-covered armchair with a high, buttoned back. She was concerned for their protégée. Marianne looked older than seventeen and she had no experience of the big, harsh world, where men, even young men, lay in wait for those such as her, to ravish them, to defile them and leave them afraid to trust any other man. She cast her mind back almost forty years. She had been seventeen, the same age as Marianne, when she met Sandy Raitt. She would never forget him. Sandy! He had been so handsome in his blue uniform, and looked such a gentleman that even her father had been taken in …